DRUNK SEX. IT’S pretty awesome. You did and said things you didn’t normally because your inhibitions were out the window, and all your mind really cared about was chasing the best orgasm it could achieve.

The problem with drunk sex wasn’t the sex. It’s the next morning when reality seeped back in.

I had sex for the first time since Tyler. The moment I opened my eyes, felt the cotton wool in my mouth and the ache in my head, that was my first thought.

I’d had sex with a man who wasn’t my husband. Worse. I’d fucked, given in to that animalistic urge that’s inside us all.

I looked over at Jude, his expression soft with sleep, and I had to cover my mouth to silence my anguish. He hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, he’d been perfect from the moment he entered my life. But still, I felt so...naked in that moment.

It wasn’t that I regretted what we did. I liked Jude. I wanted a relationship with him. But no matter how logical my mind was in understanding the past and present and the events that brought me here, I simply couldn’t help feeling guilty.

I’d fucked someone else.

Even though he was gone, I felt as though I’d been unfaithful.

Slipping from beneath Jude’s arm, I tiptoed from the room, finding my clothing and shoes along the way, dressing quickly, leaving even faster. I desperately sought the solace of my own apartment because I didn’t want to break down in front of him. Jude didn’t deserve to feel responsible for what was going on in my head.

It was me who was fucked up. Me who was struggling to let go. I’d assured him I was OK, practically forced him into bed with me, and now I was cracking. He’d wanted to slow down. I kept pushing.

“I’m sorry,” I gasped, the moment I got inside my own apartment. Tears burst out of my eyes, instantly transforming me into a slobbering mess. I rushed for the bathroom, stripping my clothes and jumping into the shower before the water had even managed to warm up. Cold water shocked my system, slowly warming until my skin turned pink and I scrubbed myself clean, trying to feel better about what I’d done.

Except I wouldn’t feel better. I couldn’t change what I’d done; couldn’t change the fact that Tyler was now forever in my past. My hands stilled and I dropped the soap and the sponge, feeling a mixture of shame and stupidity for what I’d done and how I was reacting. Then I covered my face with my hands and laughed. It was a deep, throaty belly laugh that shook my body and forced me to lean forward, clutching my abs, one hand bracing against the shower wall. I sounded mad. Madder still when the laughter turned back to tears and I dropped to the floor, the water raining down on me, crying and laughing and crying some more. I was a mess. A crazy, psychotic, crying mess. I didn’t know how to do this. I didn’t know how to move forward without feeling guilty for every moment of joy I took in another man. How was I supposed to do this? How did other people manage to move forward with their lives without losing their minds to the guilt? I didn’t know. There was no guidebook to help me, and I had no fucking clue if this was how I was supposed to react, to process. I don’t know how to feel.

“I want you to live, sweetheart,” Tyler said, lying beside me on the bed. I knew this was a dream and felt the tug against my heart from knowing he wasn’t real. I reached out and ran my hand down the side of his handsome face, focusing on the feel of his features beneath my fingertips. I didn’t want to forget a single line.

“Did you always look like this?” I asked him, touching his nose, his full lips. “It’s been so long. Have I changed you in my memory?”

He chuckled. “I don’t know. You’re the one creating this version of me. I’m not even really here.”

I sighed in response, shifting my body closer. His arms wrapped around me. “I know that. But it feels like you’re here.”

“That’s because you want it so much. But I think you need to let me go.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“You’ve read my journal, right? You know there were forty-seven things I wanted with you.”

“Yes. And the forty-seventh thing was everything.”

“And you gave me everything, sweetheart. You gave me more than I could have asked for.” He shifted his weight so we were once again looking at each other. “But you know there is one more thing, right? It’s on the page all by itself. The one that says ‘When I’m gone’.”

“You want me to fall in love again.”

“Yes.”

“Why? Wasn’t our love enough?”

“It was for me. It lasted my whole life. But your life is still going, Sarah. You can have more than one love in a lifetime. I don’t want you to quit living and loving just because I’m not there anymore. This guy, Jude. He’s good for you. He makes you smile and I haven’t heard you laugh like that in a long, long time. You should be with him, not in here with me.”

“It’s just hard. I’m having all these firsts again when I wanted you to be my last. Forever didn’t last long enough for us.”

“Falling for someone else doesn’t mean you don’t still love me. It just means you love someone else too. You have a big heart, sweetheart. There’s room for us all in there.”

I snuggled closer again. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

“That’s because you haven’t let me go yet.”

“I don’t want to.”

“But you have to. Let me go, sweetheart. We’re both tired. We need to rest.”

“No.” I held him tighter.

“Please, sweetheart. Please,” he begged, slowly fading away. I tried to hold on, to keep him beside me. But he vanished the moment I opened my eyes and found that the only thing in my arms was his journal. I’d fallen asleep clutching it, like I had so many times before.

Sitting up, I lifted my hand to my head, my brain throbbing against my skull. The early morning call of birds pierced my skull, reminding me that I’d drunk far too much the night before, and my crying jag had further dehydrated me.

Shuffling into the kitchen, I took some pills and drank some water, trying to make sense of my jumbled mind. The dreams. I didn’t know if they were making things better or worse. My mind was obviously so confused over starting a new relationship when I was still so in love with Tyler that it was conjuring him in my dreams, turning him into my counsellor. But for what purpose? To try and alleviate my guilt? But it wasn’t really working that way, because it just made me miss him. Maybe I really did need to let him go. But how? How could I let go of the other half of my heart? Even if I had only been with Tyler a year. Even if it had been five years since he died. Even if I did want to open the other half of it to Jude.

Jude.

I thought about him and how he’d feel waking up to an empty bed and empty apartment. Guilt twisted my stomach even tighter than before. I wasn’t being fair to him. I’d convinced him I was ready then I’d turned and run.

Seeking out my purse, I found my phone and called him. He answered straight away.

“I’m sorry,” I said before he even had the chance to speak. “I woke up. I freaked out. And I ran. I’m an arsehole and I’m sorry.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, but I could hear him breathing. I gripped the phone a little tighter, my free hand clutching the oversized T-shirt I’d worn to bed.

“Jude?”

He let out his breath. “Can we do this face to face?”

My heart hammered in my chest. Did that mean he was going to break up with me?

“Sure,” I whispered.

Raking my hands through my messy hair, I paced the kitchen, my stomach roiling. I caught sight of myself in the glass of the oven. I looked a fright, my hair a mass of frizz, my eyes red and puffy.

“Oh, shit.” I ran to the bathroom, twisting my hair into a bun on the top of my head. With one hand, I smeared BB cream all over my skin, and with the other, I brushed my teeth. Then I swiped on some mascara and some rose-tinted lip gloss, pressing my lips together just as he knocked on the front door.

Taking one last look at my reflection, I decided that would have to do as I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. Then I went to the door, opening it to find a freshly showered Jude standing on the other side. He looked and smelled wonderful.

“Hey,” I said, leaning against the door.

He pressed his lips into a smile, adjusted his glasses, then cleared his throat. “Can I?” He pointed past me and I stood to the side, letting him in.

He drifted past me without touching. I felt sure he’d come here to tell me it was over, and my mind raced, trying to think of what I could say to explain my behaviour and change his mind. I wasn’t ready for us to be over yet.

“I need to tell you how much I enjoyed last night. It was the most fun I’ve had in so long, and then, in your apartment,” I paused as the blush crept up my cheeks as I remembered how direct I’d been and how in tune our bodies had seemed, “it was...amazing.”

“But?” he added, folding his arms protectively across his chest. The way his shoulders curved and his jaw pressed, I realised that he was the one who was worried. Did he think I was planning on breaking up with him? I didn’t know enough about his history to understand why he’d come to that conclusion, and I suppose he didn’t know much about mine either. Neither of us knew how important last night had been to the other. I needed to explain my side.

“But nothing. It…you…were amazing. From crashing the party to drinking far too much to all that...stuff, we did. I can’t fault a moment of it.”

“Then why did you leave?”

I took a deep breath and glanced towards the shelf that housed our family pictures. It held images of Ty as a baby, of our European holiday a couple of years ago, and photos of our wedding.

“Because it was the first time I’d had sex since Tyler.”

“Had he been your first?”

“No. I’m not inexperienced; there were others before him, but after him…” I shook my head. “I just haven’t had any interest. Until I met you, of course.” I smiled tentatively. “So, it was a big deal for me to give myself to you. In the moment, my mind was clear on what I wanted and I wanted you. But, when I woke up during the night, I felt this surge of emotion and I needed to deal with it on my own. So I left. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“Do you regret what we did?”

Moving closer to him, I placed my hands on his forearms, looking up into his soft brown eyes. “Not for a second. I don’t want to take it back. I don’t want to slow things down. I simply needed...a moment.”

He nodded, then let out his breath. “OK.”

“You’re not angry?”

Unfolding his arms, he brushed the backs of his fingers against the side of my face. “How could I be angry when I like you so much?”

“What is it you like?”

The corner of his mouth tilted upward a little. “You want a list?”

“It would help.” I grinned.

“OK.” He ran his hand down the length of my arm, stopping when he caught my fingers in his. “You’re brave. That was the first thing I learned about you.”

“Is that because I punched you in the nose?”

He laughed. “Partly. You were tough that day, but you were kind too. I think that’s when it started for me. When you came back and helped me. There aren’t a lot of people willing to put things right the way you did. That was brave.”

I smiled, feeling a little proud of myself. I’d never thought of our first meeting that way. I’d been so embarrassed by the way I’d behaved that I hadn’t contemplated how he would have viewed me.

“What else?” I asked, enjoying his compliments.

“You want more?” He chuckled and I nodded. “I like your mind, your sharp wit, your perspective on the world. You ask questions and you don’t pretend to know everything like most adults do, and you aren’t afraid to argue your point of view. You’re fearless.” Tugging on my hands he pulled me a little closer. “And I really like looking at you. All of you. And after last night, I think I really like your mouth.” Releasing my hands, he ran his thumb against my bottom lip. I had an inclination to lave it with my tongue and suck it into my mouth.

I blushed at the thought.

“I also adore the way your cheeks do this.” He brushed his fingers against them before resting his hand against the curve of my neck, his thumb moving gently against my skin.

The motion made me heady. “Can I ask you something?” I whispered.

He answered yes with his expressive eyes.

“Last night. In bed. Is that how you always are?” I felt a little awkward about asking, as I’d never really been the kind of person to dissect the goings-on in the bedroom, but I’d never had sex with someone who was so in charge before. For someone who was so awkward and restrained in his normal life, he’d held little back once our clothes came off. It was sexy as hell.

“Was it too much?”

“No,” I practically shouted, my cheeks even hotter from the memory and this conversation. “I just...wasn’t expecting you to be so—”

“Aggressive?”

A nervous laugh bounced out of my chest. “Yeah. But in a good way.” My fingers played with the button on his polo shirt. I met his eyes and swallowed. “In a very good way.”

“I can be gentle too,” he assured me, his voice soft.

I felt my body react with interest. “I’d like to try that.”

“Are you sure?”

My answer came fast. “Yes. And I promise not to run away this time.”

“You know, you can talk to me about this stuff. If you’re upset or just want to talk about him, it’s OK. I want to be a part of your life. I don’t want you to hide your grief from me.”

“I promise, I’ll try.”

“Good,” he whispered, pulling me closer, his mouth brushing against mine. “I really like you, Sarah.”

“I like you too,” I returned, tilting my head upward, my already kiss-swollen lips longing to return to his. “About that thing you were going to show me...”

He grinned against my mouth. “You mean that gentle thing that involved no clothes?”

I thought for a second. “Yeah, that.”

He captured my lips in his, kissing me deeply, slowly, his tongue masterful in its exploration of my mouth. He left me feeling breathless and weak at the knees, needing to lean against him to stay upright.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said with a grin.

I laughed in this breathy way I hadn’t heard come out of my mouth before. “Maybe I can jog your memory,” I said, taking him by the hand and leading him into my bedroom. I opened the door the same way I had the night before. He took one look at my bed then lifted me off the floor, his mouth on mine as he lowered me onto the mattress. We took our time, we moved together slowly. I lost myself to the feeling of his body inside mine, and this time, I didn’t cry. This time, I stayed with him, savouring every moment, letting myself fall a little deeper.